


Three Shots of Caramel

by comebacknow



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Coffeeshop AU, Holiday, M/M, One Shot, Thominewt, cameos from other characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:06:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebacknow/pseuds/comebacknow
Summary: Thomas works at a coffeeshop with his more-than-a-friend, Minho. But something has been missing...





	Three Shots of Caramel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for TMR Secret Santa! First try writing Thominewt!

  

            Thomas hastily scribbled the name “Gallie” on the cup.

            “Uh, no,” the boy said, “it’s with a Y.”

            Thomas glanced up at him and leveled a stare.  He drew a giant cross on the name and rewrote it: Galley.

            “No,” the boy shook his head, annoyed, sharp brows furrowing. “There’s no ‘e’.”

            Thomas put the cup down and looked at him.  He considered snapping at him, but decided the loss of his job wasn’t worth it.  Sometimes customer service was the worst.  He picked it back up, crossed out the second attempt and rewrote the name for the third time: Galliy.

            The boy sighed heavily and shook his head.

            “Listen man, the longer I spend on your name the longer it’s going to take to get your drink started,” Thomas reasoned as he reached behind him to pass the cup off. 

            His coworker, Minho, took the cup from him as he placed a finished drink on the counter: “Alibi?”

            “It’s Alby,” the other boy sighed as he picked up his cup.

            A boy sitting at the counter shook his head.  “He spelled my name wrong too.” He held up his cup that simply read: w0nston.

            Minho turned to Thomas.

            Thomas merely shrugged innocently.  “He said it was with an “o” like a zero.”

            Minho’s mouth curled up in a small laugh as he shook his head and turned toward the latte machine. 

            Thomas gripped the counter to keep himself from moving forward and pressing a kiss to the curve of Minho’s mouth.  He reminded himself – yet again – that he was at work.  There would be time for that later.

            It was the same thing every day here at Glade Grinds.  The coffee shop was small, a few scattered tables by the frosted window that allowed patrons to watch passers-by as they rushed through the snowfall of the cool December afternoon.  There were two overstuffed sofas in the corner with a small table between and last, was a small counter that doubled as a pickup area for coffees and a place for patrons to pull up a barstool to sit.

            Light holiday music came low through the speakers: some modernized version of a classic that constantly got stuck in Thomas’ head after the shift, but still, it was comforting.  It wasn’t a bad place to make a paycheck.  The bright red apron wasn’t anything excessive and he quite enjoyed the smell of coffee.  He especially enjoyed the steam that rose from the cups around the shop as he watched the snow continue to pile up and up outside.  There was just something special about this place during the winter.

            Thomas and his friend, Minho, typically worked the Happy Hour shift, which was a five hour stretch between lunch and dinner hours. It was the store’s busiest few hours, which made the shift go by quickly which was always a welcomed thing. Today, however, it was a bit slower than normal – most people preferring to stay home by fires or curled up on couches in flannel pajamas.  Even so, there were the few last-minute shoppers bustling about the neighborhood and running in, shivering and hoping for the sweet, warm release of a peppermint latte or a spiced vanilla tea.  Thomas preferred the taste of the gingerbread mochas – and could typically go through two a day, sometimes three.

            After the happy hour shift at the Glade, of course, Thomas and Minho usually found themselves wandering up the road to the local bar for their own happy hour.  Their preferred bartender, Brenda, usually greeted them immediately with their favorite drinks and they would spend the majority of the time talking about the shift and what bizarre requests customers made to them that day.  It was a nice way to wind down and be on the other side of the service.

            Of course, this would then result in happier hours at either Thomas’ or Minho’s apartments.  Thomas couldn’t remember when this thing started between them – whatever it was.  But once it did, it was easy – simple.  It was like it should have always been there, and maybe it always was and it just took them too long to notice. 

            There were mornings that Thomas woke up wrapped up in the cinnamon and clover scent of Minho’s sheets, and others when he rolled over in his own bed to see familiar black spikes of hair and a soft yawn before they both went out for their morning run through the city park.

            It was a good routine for Thomas, but there was always something missing.  He knew he wasn’t alone in thinking that; he could tell just by the way Minho’s eyes would drift sometimes, lost in thought.  The way they’d rest on a park bench and just watch others walk past.

            Still, until they figured it out – this worked.  Grazed hands between Glade shifts and lingering stares across the bar.  Small smiles ducked into glasses or behind hands.  Not to mention, he didn’t quite mind leaning back on the counter from time to time to watch the muscles in Minho’s arms shift as he pulled the steamer on the latte machine around or carried a case of new syrups up from the storage closet in the back of the shop.

            The storage closet was another place Thomas often found himself.  Tangled up and tripping over boxes and discarded aprons.  But he tried not to think about that.  Distraction on the job could be dangerous, as he learned the hard way.  The burn on his right arm was still healing from when he’d leaned onto the latte machine’s surface while watching Minho stretch to reach the coffee grounds from the top shelf.

            “Excuse me?”

            Thomas spun round quickly and consequently knocked his other arm into the corner of the register, earning a jolt of stings up to his shoulder. “Shit, fuck!”

            “Are you okay?”

            “Christ!” Thomas exhaled.  “Yeah, I’m fi-,” his words cut off as he glanced up into soft brown eyes.  “Hi.”

            “Hi,” the boy said through a small, quiet laugh, eyes crinkling above cheeks still rosy from the winter chill outside.

            “What uh,” Thomas tried to blink himself to focus and ignore the stinging still reverberating up his arm.  “How can I get you?”

            The boy raised a brow.

            “What!” Thomas corrected.  “What can I help you? Get you. What…” he turned around and pointed to the decorative chalkboard menu on the wall. He looked back at the boy and finally rested on: “coffee.”

            “Yes,” the boy smirked.  “I’d like some if it’s possible.”

            “Oh, it’s possible.” He pressed his mouth together in an attempt to shut himself up as he heard the snicker of a laugh from behind him.  “What can I get you?”

            “I’ll have a medium black coffee with caramel, please.”

            “Okay,” Thomas nodded, grabbing the appropriate cup and jotting down the order on the side.  He looked up at him.  “How many shots of caramel?”

            “Two is fine,” the boy nodded. His eyes flicked behind Thomas and something brightened in them.  “Actually, make it three.  Three shots of caramel.”  
  
            “Three shots caramel,” Thomas confirmed, writing it down.  “Is that all?”

            “For now,” the boy smiled at him.

            “Okay.  Name for the cup?” he asked, ignoring his own pounding heartbeat.

            “Newt.”

            Thomas blinked.  “I’m sorry?”

            “Newt,” he repeated.

            “Like the lizard?”

            “Salamander, actually.”

            “Right,” Thomas nodded. He jotted the name down.

            “Um,” Newt held up a finger.  “It’s not with an O.  It’s with an e-w.”

            “Ew?” Thomas tilted his head

            Newt blinked and raised a brow.  “Rather blunt of you.”

            “No!” Thomas held out a hand.  “Not like, ew you. Ew like. E-W. Like. N-ew-T.  Your name.”

            Newt’s mouth curled up into a smirk as Thomas continued to ramble. 

            “I just meant the spelling of your name and…” Thomas sighed. “And you’re just giving me a hard time, aren’t you?”

            “Yes,” Newt laughed.  “I don’t care how you spell my name; it’s a coffee cup.”  
  
            “You’d be surprised,” Thomas laughed as Minho called out “Galilly?” at the other end of the counter.

            “Coffee will be right up,” Thomas smiled as he handed the cup back to Minho.  “I’m Thomas.”

            Newt raised a brow. “Nice…to meet you.”

            Thomas swallowed.  “Not that you… asked.  Or needed to know. I don’t... It’s policy to introduce ourselves to the guests.”  
  
            “No it’s not!” Minho called from behind him.

            Thomas cleared his throat and looked down at the register as he rang the order up and took Newt’s card.  He swiped it and then handed it back with an awkward smile.

            “Thanks, Tommy,” Newt winked as he deposited three dollars into the tip jar. 

            Thomas looked up at him.  “Thank you.  Wow.”

            Newt shrugged and waved a hand.  “Holidays and all that.”

            “This can’t be right,” Minho said suddenly.

            Thomas turned to where Minho furrowed a brow down to the cup.  “You want a black coffee and three shots of caramel?” he looked up at Newt.  “No cream or sugar?”

            “No,” Newt said, smiling.  “That’s all.”

            Minho raised a brow.  “Interesting.”

            Thomas glanced between their eye contact.  _Oh hell no._ He cleared his throat.  “Minho,” he said pointedly.  “Might wanna start brewing that so Newt here isn’t waiting.”

            “Oh, I don’t mind,” Newt said.

            Thomas turned back to him.  “It’s not our policy to keep guests waiting.”

            “Just like it’s not your policy to introduce yourselves to guests?” Newt said, smile growing.

            Thomas rang his tongue along his teeth. “I’ll get the caramel.”

            “So, Newt,” Minho began as he turned away from the pot.  He leaned his arms on the latte machine in front of the counter.  “Your accent makes me think you’re new in town.”

            “I am,” he confirmed.  “I’m here visiting my sister for the holiday.”  
  
            “She lives here?” Minho asked as he looked over his shoulder to meet Thomas’ gaze.

            Thomas shrugged as he idly flipped the caramel syrup in his hand.  He glanced to the door to make sure no one was coming in. 

            “Anyone we might know?” Minho asked as he turned back to Newt.

            “Her name’s Sonya?” Newt tilted his head.  The lilted accent in his voice nearly made Thomas cave.  “Shorter than me, blonde hair.”

            “No idea,” Minho shook his head.

            “Well, that’s good,” Newt laughed.  “My sister doesn’t need more boys fawning over her.”

            “Don’t think you’d have to worry that much about that here,” he smirked.

            Thomas watched Newt’s gaze lock on Minho’s.  Something electric shot between them and Thomas’ chest tightened.  He glanced between the two and, for a moment, couldn’t figure out which of the two boys he was more jealous of. 

            “And yourself, then?” Newt asked.  “I take it you live around here?”  
  
            “Two blocks over.”

            “Mhm,” Newt nodded. 

            Thomas cleared his throat again and handed pushed the bottle of caramel syrup into Minho’s hands.  “Here you go.”

            Minho looked down at it and then up to Thomas.  “Thanks.”

            Thomas feigned a smile.  “Think the coffee’s ready, Minho.”

            “What, you lost function of your hands?” Minho asked.

            Thomas blinked at him.  “No, they work fine actually.”  He reached forward and grabbed the bucket of sanitary water and dumped it on Minho’s pants.

            Minho jumped back as his jaw fell open.  “What the hell?”

            Thomas twisted his mouth into a smile.  Sure, he knew he’d pay for that later tonight, but then, wasn’t that half the reason he’d done it? Thomas met Minho’s gaze and the same electricity that Minho had sent toward Newt seemed to dig deep into Thomas’ chest.  It curled around him and pooled low in his stomach. Yes, he’d certainly be paying for that later.

            Minho turned to grab the pot of coffee and for a split second, Thomas wondered if he was about to dump it on him.  But Minho simply poured it into the cup marked for Newt.  He pumped three shots of caramel into it and capped it before bringing it back to the counter.  “Here you are, Newt.”

            “Thanks,” Newt smiled.  His gaze shifted between the two of them.  “Would it be too forward of me to ask for your number?”  
  
            Thomas and Minho glanced at each other and then back at Newt.  “Which one of us?” Thomas asked.

            Newt’s smile lifted.  “Both of you.”

            Thomas lifted a brow as Minho exhaled audibly. And there it was: that missing link.  Beneath the counter, they shared a simple bump of fists. 

            “Uh, excuse me?” someone called out.

            Thomas whipped around to the order counter to see a boy standing there waiting to order. “When the hell did he get here?” Thomas breathed.

            Minho snorted behind him and pushed him forward, causing him to slip on the wet floor and bang his elbow into the latte machine.

            “Well, that’s definitely going to bruise now,” Newt said, smirking into his coffee cup.

            “Hi,” Thomas said to the new guest, rubbing his arm.  “How can I help you?”  
  
            “Can I have a small iced tea please?”  
  
            “Sure,” he nodded and scribbled on the cup.  “Name?”  
  
            “Aris.”

            Thomas blinked at the cup. 

            “A-R-”

            Thomas scribbled a name and handed it to Minho.  He rang the boy up and signaled for him to wait on the side before he turned and leaned on the counter where Newt stood eyeing him.  “Is the drink okay?”

            “Mhm,” Newt nodded.

            “Areese?” Minho called out.

            “Aris,” the boy corrected.

            “Hell, Thomas,” Minho laughed.

            Thomas waved him off with a hand. “So, visiting your sister, hm?” he asked Newt.

            “Yep.”

            “And where does she live?”

            “A couple blocks down that way,” he pointed over his shoulder.  “On Spring Street?”

            “Spring?” Minho asked, joining them. “That’s at least ten blocks over.  What the hell are you doing all the way over here?”

            Newt looked down at his coffee as he rubbed the back of his neck.

            Thomas was pretty certain the reds on his cheeks were no longer from the cold outside.

            “I got sort of lost,” he murmured.

            “Well, we can drive you over if you want,” Thomas offered.  “It wouldn’t be an issue.”

            “Oh,” he nodded.  “That’s fine.  I mean, I don’t need to be there until tomorrow morning, technically.  I figured I’d grab a hotel for the night.  Flight was cheaper today.”

            “You don’t have plans tonight then?” Minho asked, eyeing Thomas.

            “No,” Newt said, shifting his gaze between them.

            Thomas pulled a thread of courage somewhere deep inside of him.  “Wanna join us for drinks after this?  We know this girl who makes a mean gin and tonic.”

            Newt eyed them both.  “You wouldn’t mind me crashing your plans?”

            “Not at all,” Thomas shook his head.

            “We’re inviting you,” Minho added.

            “Alright then,” Newt nodded.  “I’m in.”

            Thomas vaguely wondered if he should tell Newt not to bother worrying about booking a hotel room. 

            “So?” Newt tilted his head.  “When do you two get off?”

            Thomas raised a brow.

            Minho leaned down on the counter.  “About a half hour,” he grinned.  “When do you get off?”

            Newt simply sipped his coffee, eyeing the two of them over the rim of the cup.

            No, Thomas didn’t much mind this job at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn’t love a coffeeshop AU?
> 
> Who doesn’t love a coffee?  
> http://ko-fi.com/comebacknow
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on Twitter at @WritingBia !  
> Find me on tumblr at comebacknow !


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